We meet each other on the road and say, 'Done any good gigs recently?' 'Yes, Milton Keynes Central Library.') A black man, sitting opposite me, looked at my face and said suddenly 'I bet you are an Igbo. (It's funny how we poets call readings gigs, really sad and pathetic, just to pretend we are pop stars. Years earlier, I'd been on a night train from London to Manchester after having done a poetry gig. I'd been told by various Nigerian friends that, with a surname, he should be easy enough to trace surnames give you a rough idea of the part of Nigeria people are from. I'd thought of writing to the Nigerian Embassy who supported the students who came to Scotland in the sixties. I was amazed that it had never occurred to me to Google my father! Over the years I'd thought of getting in touch with Aberdeen University's student records. 'Just one article and he'll be on the net,' she said.
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